


This Is Where I Want To Be

by teenageinvincibility



Category: Phlochte - Fandom, Swimming RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 10:09:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1740827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teenageinvincibility/pseuds/teenageinvincibility
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I had a dream about you last night. You were talking to me, but I couldn't hear what you were saying. I was afraid I'd forgotten the sound of your voice."</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is Where I Want To Be

**Author's Note:**

> If this is how I spend my summer, so be it. Phlochte forever

Ryan felt something wet press against his hand. He didn’t remember falling asleep in his backyard, but it was 6 o’clock and Carter was hungry. He pressed his nose into Ryan’s palm again and then licked it repeatedly, only stopping when Ryan patted his head.

“Yeah, yeah, I gotchu,” he grunted, sitting up and stretching his stiff limbs.

He followed Carter inside, but Carter didn’t stop in the kitchen. Instead, the dog trotted into the front hall.

“What?” Ryan, intrigued, followed Carter. As he got closer to the door, he was able to hear the knocking.

Carter was jumping up at the door, clawing at the knob and whining. Ryan didn’t know if he should be scared or excited by whoever was behind the door.

“Calm down, freak,” Ryan said, pushing Carter behind him so he could open the door. When he did, Ryan felt all of the air leave his body.

“Um, hey,” Mike said awkwardly.

Ryan could count on one hand the number of times he’d seen Michael since they left London.

The first time: when Michael flew down to Gainesville the week before his retirement party. They’d done all of their usual things, like going to the beach, hanging out at Grog, and fucking every ten minutes. After Michael left, Ryan had noticed that he’d taken a few things with him, things that he’d left at Ryan’s house for years: a toothbrush, goggles, a Michigan hoodie that Ryan wore on occasion, and a few t-shirts. Ryan honestly hadn’t thought anything of it, just that maybe Michael needed them for whatever extravagant plans he had for his retirement.

The second time: when Michael was on his way to Miami to pick up a flight to Punta Cana. Michael had stopped by Ryan’s house. To break up with him.

“Look, Ry,” he’d said. “We’re just at different places in our lives.”

“You asshole!” Ryan had yelled. “We’ve talked about being in these places for years! We’ve planned them! You’re such a fucking dick. Take your shit and leave. Get out of my house.”

“About that - I’m actually on my way to the airport so could you, like, mail it all to my house?”

Ryan had slammed the door in Michael’s face and Devon had cleaned their house of Michael’s things and put them in the dumpster by the next morning.

The third time: they were both at the Speedo shoot and, with the help of their teammates, had spent the day avoiding each other. Until the Speedo Party the next night. They’d both gotten too drunk, hooked up in the bathroom, and then ended the night in Mike’s room. Ryan had left before Mike woke up the next morning, and they’d both just pretended it never happened.

This present situation was the fourth time Ryan Lochte had seen Michael Phelps in almost two years. It hurt for many reasons. The first being that, since 2008, Ryan was sure he and Mike were going to get married. The second being that, before they were boyfriends, Ryan and Michael were best friends. For eight years, they hadn’t gone a day without speaking. And then they went two years managing to only see each other four times.

“Mike?” Ryan asked, not sure if he believed his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

Michael shrugged, taking a few steps into the house. “I had a dream the other night. About you. Your mouth was moving, like you were talking to me, but I couldn’t hear what you were saying. I… I was afraid I’d forgotten the sound of your voice.”

Ryan was sure his jaw dropped from the utter stupidity of Michael’s words. “There’s this thing called a phone, man. The majority of the world’s population - “

“And I guess I was looking for an excuse to see you,” Michael said. Well that changed things. “I… I really miss you, Ryan. And I have something I want you to hear from me before you hear it from the media.”

“Do you have another girlfriend?” Ryan snapped. “Because I’ve heard about the last, like, six from Ryan Seacrest, so I think - “

“I’m coming back to swimming.”

Ryan digested the information. “I figured,” he said. “I told you you wouldn’t last long.”

Michael smiled. “You’ve always known me better than I’ve known myself, Doggy.” Michael reached up and ran his hand down the side of Ryan’s face, his thumb running over Ryan’s lips.

Ryan turned his head away, causing Michael to drop his arm. “You can’t just fix it like that. It’s been two years, Mike, and I never got a real explanation.”

“I’m here now,” Michael said, almost desperately. “I know it took me awhile, Ryan, but here I am. And I’m sorry. And I’m going to do whatever I can to win you back.”

“I don’t want to hear this right now, Mike.”

Ryan left the front door open, Mike’s invitation to leave, and walked back out to his backyard, hoping maybe he’d wake up in his lounge chair to realize it had all just been a dream.

 

Ryan woke up to his phone buzzing.

“Fuck,” he muttered, seeing that it was 10:30 and he’d fallen asleep outside again. “Hello?”

“Ryan,” Conor said, and he sounded like a mixture of angry, confused, and amused. “Why did a drunk and crying Michael Phelps show up on my doorstep half-an-hour ago?”

Ryan sighed. “Shit. I’m sorry, Conor. I didn’t - I never thought about what he’d do after I kicked him out.”

“Good,” Conor said sarcastically. “I’m glad at least one of us knew Michael was in Florida. Hey, Ryan? Why is Michael in Florida?”

Ryan ran his hand down in his face, took a few deep breaths, and stared up at the ceiling. “He showed up at my front door to tell me he wants to fix things and I kicked him out.”

“You WHAT?” Ryan had known to hold the phone away from his ear for Conor’s reaction. After all, Conor had been the one that Ryan cried and moped to for months after Mike broke up with him. He’d said all sorts of things about taking Mike back no questions asked if Mike ever offered. The thing was, Ryan never actually thought that’s something Mike would offer. And when he did, it seemed too easy.

“I just… Can you just let him sleep there tonight and I’ll handle it tomorrow?”

“When? During practice? Or during workout? Oh, you mean during afternoon practice!”

Ryan groaned. “Conor, I can’t be in his presence right now. Especially if he’s drunk. You know what happened last time. Look, he’ll still be asleep when you leave for the pool in the morning, so I’ll just swing by after and… Deal with it.”

“You fucking owe me,” Conor said, and then the line went dead.

 

Ryan couldn’t sleep that night, and it showed the next morning in the pool. He was lagging behind everyone, turning sloppily, and was the reason his teammates had to keep repeating sets.

“Lochte!” Gregg called. Ryan looked up at him and Gregg gestured for him to get out of the pool.

“What’s up, coach?”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

Ryan glanced back at the pool and saw Conor kicking away on his kickboard, all while staring at Ryan and Gregg. “I guess I kinda have a lot on my mind.”

“Does it have anything to do with why Bob Bowman called me at 7 o’clock this morning and asked if I’d seen Michael Phelps?”

Ryan felt himself turning red. He glanced down, suddenly very interested in his feet. “Um, yeah, Michael sort of - “

“Just take care of it and be back tomorrow morning.”

“Coach - “ Ryan hated getting off so easily.

“You won’t be able to focus until you talk to Michael, and your teammates are going to beat you up in the locker room if they have to repeat one more set. So go.”

Ryan glanced back at Conor again before turning and jogging toward the locker room. “Thanks, coach,” he called over his shoulder.

 

Ryan pulled up to Conor’s house and Mike was waiting for him on the driveway. They didn’t talk on the ride back to Ryan’s, and Lil Wayne rapped at them to fill the silence.

Mike silently followed Ryan out back where they sort of hovered next to each other, looking out at the still pool and Ryan’s very green backyard.

“Your grass is, like, really green,” Mike noted.

“Yeah,” Ryan agreed. “Devon took up gardening in his free time. He’s out here with like rulers measuring the grass on a daily basis.”

Mike laughed because he could picture it. “Hey, uh, sorry for showing up so out of the blue yesterday. I know it’s something that used to work, so I guess I just… didn’t think about it.”

“Sorry for kicking you out,” Ryan said. “I just… I’ve imagined that scenario and played out all of these different possibilities so many times, and me kicking you out was never one of them.”

“I’m just really sorry, Ryan. I know you want to know why I did it in the first place, and I’ve had two years to figure out why, but I still don’t know. I guess I felt like I needed some sort of control on my life, since everything I used to control so meticulously was no longer there. I guess I figured that being with you still meant being with swimming, and I just wanted to distance myself from the pool.”

“But did you stop talking to Allison? Or Conor? Or Ricky? Or fucking Bob? No, Mike. It was just me. You singled me out. And that shit hurt.”

“Ryan, I can’t even begin to imagine how much I’ve hurt you. The thought makes me ache, honestly. It makes me feel sick to my stomach.”

“Comforting,” Ryan spat.

“I’ve thought about you every damn day since I broke up with you.”

“So fucking what? You still didn’t answer any of my calls or texts,” Ryan said, his voice starting to rise. “You think I didn’t think about you? You’re all I fucking thought about, Mike! You’re all I’ve ever thought about for the last ten years! See how fucked up that is? You break up with me and I still can’t get you out of my head, even two years down the line.”

Ryan’s chest was heaving and Michael looked like he’d just been kicked in the face. Which was fine because that’s how Ryan had felt for the last two years.

“Ryan,” Michael breathed, taking the older man’s hands in his. Ryan was too emotionally drained at this point to fight Michael off. “Ryan. I know I don’t deserve you, but I will do whatever it takes to try to fix us. Because I love you. And I always have. And I’m so sorry it took me this long to realize that this is where I want to be. That anywhere you are is where I want to be.”

Ryan didn’t know if he wanted to hit Michael or kiss him. He didn’t know if he should cry or laugh. So he sort of did a combination of all four.

“Fuck,” he choked out, punching Michael as hard as he could in the shoulder before grabbing Michael’s face and bringing it down to his own.

It was all teeth and very wet and one of the worst kisses either of them had ever had and exactly what both of them needed. Both of their cheeks were stained as they gripped each other so tightly it should’ve hurt. But it didn’t because, even though they were the pinnacle of strength, they couldn’t hold each other tightly enough.

“Out of curiousity,” Michael asked, pulling away from Ryan’s lips to breathe. He’d forgotten that Ryan kissed like the world was ending. “What were some of the scenarios you’d imagined?”

“Wanna know my favorite one?” Ryan asked, a wicked look in his eye.

“Yeah,” Michael breathed, his dick already twitching. Ryan had quite the imagination.

“Okay, let me see your phone.”

“My phone?” Michael asked, digging in his pocket. He handed it to Ryan. “Why do you need to see - “

Ryan shoved Michael into the pool, and was laughing when he resurfaced. “Fucking break my heart again and I’ll drown you. I don’t give a fuck if you’re the GOAT or the lamb or the pigeon. I will drown you, motherfucker.”

 

“Bed at 9:30?” Mike asked, scrunching up his nose.

“Gregg gave me the day off to deal with you as long as I promised to be back tomorrow morning,” Ryan explained.

“You told him I was here?”

“Bob did,” Ryan said, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, Mike sighed, stretching out on Ryan’s bed. “I’ll pay for that when I get back.”

“Which will be when?” Ryan asked cautiously as he walked toward his closet.

“Huh,” Michael said. “I hadn’t thought about, you know, going back.”

Ryan stripped off his shirt and shorts and pulled on a fresh pair of boxers before returning to the main part of the room. “I can’t skip practice, but you could stay for a few days until we figure things out.”

“I’d like that,” Michael smiled. “But we’ve done enough talking today. C’mere.”

Using his ridiculously long wingspan, Michael sat up and pulled Ryan down on top of him. They kissed again, but it was much slower and less urgent than before. Ryan supported his weight over Michael, who cupped Ryan’s face in his massive hands.

Something Michael loved about Ryan that no girl could ever compete with was Ryan’s size. Where Michael was tall with long arms and big hands, girls were short and fragile and one of his hands was generally the size of their whole face. He didn’t have to be gentle with Ryan.

To prove it, Michael bit Ryan’s tongue. Not hard, just playfully. Ryan retaliated by squeezing Michael’s nipples a little harder than what felt good. Things they couldn’t do with girls. Things they could only do with each other.

“So,” Ryan said, leaning back so he was sitting on Michael’s hips. “In this one particular scenario, you beg me to fuck you because you’ve missed my dick so badly.”

Michael snorted. “While that may be true, I will not beg for you, Lochte.”

“Fine,” Ryan said. He stood up off the bed, and right when Michael went to protest, Ryan pulled Michael’s shorts off. “Don’t talk,” he told Michael.

Ryan dropped Michael’s shorts on the floor and then pulled his boxers down agonizingly slowly. He was staring.

“What?” Michael grunted.

“I just remember the first time I saw your tattoos. It was in the locker room in Athens and I’m pretty sure I got a boner.” He pinched Michael’s knee.

“Ow! What was that for?”  
“I told you not to talk,” Ryan reminded him.

Ryan nuzzled the inside of Michael’s thigh, and then slowly kissed his way up until he reached Michael’s Olympic rings tattoo. He slowly traced each ring with his tongue, drawing out moans from Michael. Ryan then proceeded to switch between kissing and biting until there was a nice, round bruise in the center of the rings.

Next, he moved across Michael’s hips to the yellow M. He traced the M with his tongue, and then kissed up Michael’s body until Ryan was laying on top of him. Michael pushed off Ryan’s boxers and gripped Ryan’s hips, pushing Ryan down against him so they could grind against each other.

“I swear I’m gonna cum just from this if you don’t do something else soon,” Michael warned against Ryan’s lips.

Ryan climbed further up Michael to reach into the drawer next to his bed. He pulled out a condom and lube.

“Here,” he said, pushing the two into Michael’s palm as Ryan fingered himself open.

Michael didn’t waste any time. He ripped the condom open with his teeth, rolled it on, and then squeezed some lube into his hand. He was ready before Ryan was.

“Hold on,” Ryan said, and Michael watched him slip a third finger in. “Okay, should be good.”

Michael held Ryan’s hips as Ryan slid down onto Michael’s dick, groaning as he did so. It had been a good two years since he’d had a dick inside him, other than the one time at the Speedo party, so Ryan couldn’t take all of Michael at once. He slid further and further down very slowly until, finally, all of Michael was inside of him.

“Fuck yeah, Doggy,” Michael said, taking one hand off Ryan’s waist to squeeze his ass as Ryan started rocking his hips.

Neither of them lasted very long. Ryan almost felt like they were back in Athens. Michael jacked him off while Ryan angled his hips forward, placing one hand on Michael’s chest to hold himself up. He rocked his hips and almost got off on the look on Michael’s face alone.

Michael came inside him, and Ryan came all over Michael’s hand and stomach a few seconds later. Michael pulled Ryan down and kissed him hard. They were sticky and sweaty, but too blissed out to care at the moment. In the back of his head, Ryan knew he couldn’t show up to practice with dried cum in his ass, but his head was on Michael’s chest and Michael’s arms were around him and Ryan had no will or desire to move.

 

If Ryan had thought practice was hard yesterday, it was worse today. He’d woken up to his alarm with no recollection of falling asleep, meaning he’d had no time to clean himself up. Or check for hickeys, which Conor had delightfully pointed out in the locker room.

“What happened to your neck, Ryan?” he whispered in Ryan’s ear as he walked past him to his own locker. “Fall on a doorknob?”

“Fuck you,” Ryan groaned, hands grappling toward his neck where he could still feel Mike’s lips.

When Gregg finally blew his whistle at the end of practice, Ryan was the first one out of the pool. It hurt to walk, but in a good way. Well, the memory was good.

Ryan picked up his towel and headed toward the locker room. Conor jogged up next to him, bumping his shoulder.

“Ry, why are you walking so funny?”

Ryan went to hit him, but Conor had jogged ahead, turning over his shoulder to laugh.

“I’m gonna kick your ass!” Ryan called after him.

“Kick it?” Conor winked. “Only if you can catch me!”

 

Ryan got home a few minutes after 11 and found Michael standing at the island in the kitchen. He was stirring creamer into his coffee and scrolling through his phone.

“How was practice?” he asked, looking up when ryan walked in.

“Painful,” Ryan grimaced. “I need to go shower before I have to go to the gym.”

“Want any company?” Michael winked, hiding his grin behind his coffee mug.

“Kick Conor’s ass the next time you see him,” Ryan said.

Michael drew his eyebrows up at the comment, but didn’t question it. He’d been living with Conor for almost a year, but Conor was spending some time in Florida before the Grand Prix’s.

Ryan walked across the kitchen and took Michael’s coffee cup, setting it down on the counter. He wrapped his arms around Michael’s middle, pressing himself against Michael’s chest, his face buried in Michael’s neck.

“What’s this?” Michael laughed, his arms wrapping almost subconsciously around Ryan.

“Nothing,” Ryan mumbled against him. “Just missed you, that’s all.”

Michael understood. He’d missed Ryan more than he’d known it was possible to miss anything. The dull aching in his chest had just become a part of him - until yesterday when Ryan kissed him and it went away, allowing Michael to breathe freely for the first time in months.

“I missed you, too, man,” Michael said, resting his chin on the top of Ryan’s head.

“Okay,” Ryan said, pulling away. “I really need to take a shower. Don’t go anywhere.”

“I won’t,” Michael whispered to the empty kitchen. “This is where I want to be.”


End file.
